Take Me Away
by V Tsuion
Summary: Jim Kirk is stuck tending the old family farm, but he longs for the stars. And then, one night, while stargazing, he sees a UFO land in his neighbor's field.


Jim lay out on the back of a pickup truck in the middle of seemingly endless fields of corn. A humid breeze rustled the stalks around him, to briefly rival the chorus of crickets chirping into the night. But he had eyes only for the stars.

Thousands upon thousands of pinprick lights filled the navy sky, each farther away and more enormous than he could begin to imagine. And in a hazy stripe across the sky was the arch of the milky way. There was a whole galaxy out there, and they were barely on the outskirts. He could only imagine worlds teeming with incomprehensible alien life. What planets orbited their brightest neighbor, Sirius, "only" eight light years away? Even Mars - hanging in the sky like a bright red star - could have been home to a whole civilization of little green men and they could be none the wiser.

There was so much out there, he wondered how anyone could be content with a simple life on Earth, to never see it all for themselves. Something seemed to draw him away from the ground, beckoning him toward the stars, to the life he knew was there if only they knew how to look for it. The shimmering lights seemed to wink at him, as though inviting him to share in a private little joke, teasing him, but never quite coming close enough to touch.

He yearned to call out - he would if only he thought there was a chance someone would hear - to shout into the abyss, "Come on, take me away!"

And then he saw a light, like a shooting star, or a satellite, crossing the sky.

But the light did not fade. At first he thought that maybe it was just an illusion, or a distant aeroplane. It seemed to grow larger and closer. It was no star, of that Jim was certain, but it wasn't a plane or a helicopter either. And it wasn't just crossing the sky; it was descending toward the ground not far away.

It couldn't be an alien. There had to be life out there, but he wasn't _that_ lucky. It was probably some military experiment, some new equipment being tested out in the middle of nowhere. It could be dangerous, but still, he had to know for sure.

He threw himself out of the back of the truck and into the driver's seat. He slammed the door shut behind him and stomped on the gas. He drove like a madman between narrow rows of corn, following the bright light in the sky. It drew closer and closer until he could see the glow emanating from the middle of one of his neighbors' fields.

He pulled off the road and ran into the field through a sea of corn, toward the source of the light, even as he knew he would not find what he wanted, at least it would be something interesting.

He burst into a clearing to find something that was definitely a craft of some sort. It was much smaller than a plane and more angular than a helicopter. It could have been an astronaut landing back on Earth, but it didn't look anything like the rockets on TV. It was shaped like a curved X, with sweeping purple wings. The material looked almost soft, though it must have been sturdy to survive the flight. He wondered if maybe it was a Soviet satellite.

His heart racing, Jim circled the craft in search of some evidence of its origin. It was surprisingly undamaged for the speed of its descent.

Then he heard a loud whoosh coming from the other side. He ran back around to find that the hull of the craft had opened up. Standing on the triangular flap that had covered the doorway was what Jim at first took for a man in a cloak.

Jim was about to ask him how he had opened the door when he noticed the man's pointed ears and sharply slanted eyebrows.

.-

Jim woke up to the bright light of the sunrise, unfiltered by windows or blinds. He was lying in the back of his truck - his back ached from spending a night pressed against the hard plastic. He must have fallen asleep while stargazing.

He struggled upright and stretched out his spine. It took him a little while to realize that he wasn't on his own property. The truck was parked on the side of a backroad that ran past his neighbor's fields. It was right where he'd left it- but that must have been a dream…

It was impossible, he knew it was impossible, but he leaped out of the truck and hurried back through the cornfield to where he had seen the strange craft the night before. He shouldn't have been able to find it, but the clearing of flattened stalks, a few of them charred, was difficult to miss.

* * *

Unidentified Flying Objects aside, the farm didn't run itself - as much as Jim wished it could. After a hasty breakfast and the essential cup of coffee, Jim went into town to run some errands.

It was a tired little town, if it could even be called that, nestled between cornfields along the highway. There were a few shops, a diner, and some offices, the church was a little ways down the road. Everyone knew everyone else and had for generations. When Jim was younger, going into town had always been a treat. He and his older brother, Sam, would get milkshakes at the diner while their dad gossipped with the neighbors. It was livelier then.

It was a humid day. The towering grey clouds overhead threatened a stormy afternoon. It was quiet in town, maybe a little quieter than usual.

"Good morning, Janice." He waved as he passed her on the way to the general store. She was still beautiful, with golden hair and soft features, and elegant dancer's legs that went on forever. But she didn't have much time for dancing any more.

"'Morning, Jim," she said with a smile. "How's the old family farm?"

He shrugged. "Same as ever. Just looking for a spare part. How's Emily? Is little Julie feeling better?"

"Much better now," she said. "I suppose you've missed the latest news. Emily caught it too, but she's doing alright."

"Good," Jim said. "Say hi to Bill and the kids for me."

"Will do," Janice said, and they each continued on their way.

Most of Jim's old flames had settled down already, or better yet, moved on from this small town. Sometimes it seemed like he was the only one who hadn't.

He was ambling down the street, lost in thought, when he spotted a man he didn't recognize walking on the other side of the street. That in and of itself, would have been unusual enough, but stranger yet, he realized he did know that face. He hadn't recognized him because he was no longer dressed in a long cloak, but in a button-down shirt and jeans, with a cap over his pointed ears, but he would know that face anywhere, long and deeply lined, with those sharp angular eyebrows.

"Hey!" Jim called out without thinking.

The man glanced over and met his eyes. He saw the flash of recognition, and then the man looked down and hurried away as though he had been caught on some top-secret mission.

Jim could only wonder what he had gotten caught up in, but despite himself, he couldn't let it go.

* * *

"I'm just telling you what I saw," Jim said.

"I know, and I'm just saying that you're crazy," Bones retorted.

They were sitting in the doctor's office between patients. Bones was sitting at his desk, as though for a consultation, while Jim leaned against it, half standing.

"It's not that I don't believe you, Jim," Bones continued. "I just think that if you had even an ounce of self-preservation, you'd run the other way and never look back. It doesn't matter if it's an alien or some sort of experimental aeroplane - ours or theirs - nothing good can come from snooping around."

Jim sighed. "I just can't get it out of my head…"

"If you ask me, you're looking for trouble," Bones said. "If you're that desperate to get out of here, you should just sell the farm and be done with it, instead of risking your life."

"I'm not-" Jim attempted to protest, but they both knew it fell flat. He tried again. "I just have to know. Anyway, even if I sold the farm, what would I do then?"

"I don't know, Jim," Bones said. "But I know that chasing after UFOs isn't the answer."

* * *

That night, Jim went for a drive, just to do some stargazing. He found the tallest hill for miles around - it just happened to be an embankment along an irrigation ditch - and sat in the back of his truck, looking out on the corn fields and the stars. In the distance he could see the cluster of lights of the town and scattered amidst the fields he saw his neighbors' houses. Slowly all the lights flickered out, first in town, and then finally in the houses, as the reasonable folks turned in for the night.

Then, Jim waited…

.-

He must have fallen asleep on his watch because the next thing he knew it was morning and his whole body ached from spending the night sitting in the back of his truck. There had been no trace of the strange vessel he'd seen the night before.

He went out again. This time he struck out in a wide circle. Ever so often, he stopped and stepped out of the truck to scan the countryside. He drove for miles until his eyes drooped he had no choice but to stop for the night, or risk falling asleep at the wheel.

As another night drew on with no sight of the strange vessel. He wondered if maybe it and its mysterious pilot had moved on after he realized there wasn't much to see here. If only Jim had run after him that day in town- but then what would he have done?

Bones was right, he should just leave it be and move on with his life. And, for a little while, Jim did, though he still could not help but glance up at the night sky in the hope of spotting the vessel on the horizon.

A few days later, Jim was driving along a lonely road when he spotted an old abandoned barn sitting in the middle of an overgrown field. He didn't think much of it at first glance, but it slowly dawned on him that if he wanted to hide a large, brightly colored craft, that would be just the place to put it.

It was absurd. Even if the craft and its mysterious occupant hadn't departed days ago, the chances of running into it like this were astronomical and it was a bad idea besides. But somehow he couldn't let it go, not when he'd come so close to _something_, whatever this was.

Jim made a sharp u-turn and pulled into the field. He ploughed through the tall stalks, all the way up to the entrance to the barn. The peeling wooden door caught against the ground, but finally he managed to shove it open and was met with a rush of musty air, heavy with the smell of rotting wood.

A hulking silhouette filled most of the high-ceilinged room. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, streaming in through the door and filtering through cracks in the walls and roof, he could make out the reddish-purple broadside of the strange craft. He had forgotten how unusual the material was; it looked almost soft like velvet, arched in sweeping curves, but it was hard, almost steely to the touch.

Jim circled the craft, examining it from all angles with wide eyes. His heart raced, expecting its mysterious inhabitant to emerge at any moment. Perhaps, if he had known more, each discovery would have evoked yet more questions, but as it was, he merely marveled at the unusual structure. Whether it was an alien ship or some experimental technology, it looked strikingly out of place in a run-down old barn, and he couldn't imagine where it would belong.

He circled the craft again and still, the mysterious man did not appear. Jim's fingers trailed along the smooth surface, searching for the thinnest crack that could be pried open. If he was caught, he had no excuse for trying to break into whatever it was, but he _needed_ to know. He pulled and pried until his fingers ached, but to no avail.

In a final burst of frustration he pounded at the unyielding wall. "I know you're in there! Come out and-" he stopped short; he wasn't really looking for a fight. Lamely he attempted, "I just want to talk."

He thought he heard something creaking. He waited for the door of the craft to open with bated breath.

Of course, there was no answer.

Still, he waited. He had chores to complete back at the farm and his stomach growled at the thought of a dinner he had yet to prepare, but he could not risk the strange craft leaving, never to return. Perhaps it had already been abandoned, its job done, its owner never to return.

The light slowly faded as the sun settled on the horizon outside. He could still see a few golden licks of light creeping in between the rafters, but inside it quickly turned dark. He was contemplating going back to his truck to fetch a flashlight when the old wood gave a fearsome _creak_.

Jim froze.

It was probably just the wind pulling at the old planks. He should have been more afraid of the old barn collapsing on him than anything or anyone trying to enter.

Another creak, perhaps even louder than the first. He could hear the door shifting, struggling against the dirt.

Jim ducked back behind the craft, so he could just barely see the door behind one of its arched wings.

The door groaned and scraped against the hard ground as it slid ever so slowly open. Silhouetted in the doorway, he just could make the dark figure of a man. For a moment, the man stood there, perhaps scanning the darkness as his eyes adjusted. Jim could almost feel the man's strange sharp eyes fixed on him.

With a jolt, Jim remembered his truck, left in plain sight outside of the barn - a dead give away. There was still a chance of slipping out without being noticed; if the man first returned to his craft, or even if he started to search, it was dark enough that if Jim tread carefully in the opposite direction, he could be out, back in his truck before he knew it. If he was lucky the man would just hear him driving away.

But then it would all be for nothing.

Jim stole himself against all his better judgement and stepped out of his hiding place. His heart raced as he attempted to greet the man with a sheepish smile and a friendly wave.

"You," the man said, his voice sharply accusatory. "What do you want?"

Jim could see him more clearly now; he was the same man Jim had seen that night stepping out of the craft and then in town the other day. He was watching Jim with eyes narrowed in suspicion and a tight-lipped frown.

"I was curious," Jim explained. "There hasn't been anything this interesting in town since- well, I've never seen anything quite like your vessel here." He gave the craft a pat for good measure.

The man inclined his head in acknowledgement. Even dressed normally, there was something alien about him. He had a mysterious allure that held more power over Jim than he carried to admit.

When the man did not continue, Jim pressed, though he knew he was trying his luck, "What is it?"

The man hesitated, but his answer betrayed no reluctance. "It is a starship." He held up a hand facing Jim, his thumb out and his fingers split between the middle and ring as though in a strange sign. "I come in peace."

Jim's eyes widened as the gears clicked into place. He had suspected, but he had dismissed it as impossible. "You're an alien."

"Yes," the man acknowledged.

In the words of Dr. McCoy, he said, "Well I'll be."

"What will you be?" The alien asked, his eyebrows quizzically raised.

Jim just shook his head. The man before him was an alien. He could hardly believe it, but it all made perfect sense - he just had to look at the starship next to him and it was obvious.

Jim remembered himself at last and said with a wry grin, "Nice to meet you. Do you have a name? I'm Jim."

"My name is" - the alien made an indecipherable sound - "But you may call me Spock."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Spock," Jim replied. He held out a hand to the alien.

Spock hesitated again before finally reaching out to meet him. His grasp was light, almost nervous, and very warm. For the clumsiness of the gesture, there was a tremendous weight to it; for all Jim knew, he was the first man to shake hands with an alien, welcoming him to Earth.


End file.
